Smoke Signal
by WonderfulNonsenseofBritt
Summary: [Sequel to Smoke Screen] After Tavros's death, Gamzee attempts to pull his life back together, but things only become increasingly worse when hard drugs and bad people begin to consume his life. Terezi slips into the world with him, but recognizes the problem, and calls a very worried Karkat for help. Human!stuck; Angst!stuck; Gamkar. Warning: smut, drug use, swearing
1. Chapter 1

"Gamzee," Terezi said softly as she tapped at the door to the bathroom with her cane. Her head swam and she dropped her forehead into her hands, groaning as her eyes seemed to throb within their sockets. "Are you almost done in there?"

Gamzee, meanwhile, had his face pressed against the foot of the toilet, his eyes wide and dull, pupils dilated, staring directly forward. A vision flashed through his mind. A car, speeding towards a helpless boy in a wheel chair. His body, crushed and wound around the metal frame of his wheelchair, inhumanly. The feeling of his head in Gamzee's arms, heavy but lifeless, warm but cold at the same time. He felt his tears and blood falling down his face. He heard his own screaming.

He wretched again, but laid there, clutching his body. He had nothing left in his stomach, and he knew that. Dry heaves strangled and choked him, making him convulse. Yes, he knew this routine. He had done the same thing, every single day, for almost an entire year.

He dropped out of university without caring enough about it to inform anyone. He simply stopped going. He packed most of his things into his suitcase, some of Tavros's things as well, and left the dorm. Terezi had joined him, but many of his friends turned their backs when things seemed the worst.

He purchased a small apartment downtown, in the middle of the city, with Terezi. From there, he went out, every single night, to any club he could find. Terezi managed to find herself a job in a fairly menial establishment, but places seemed to open up to her, considering her disability. She filled the quota most of them had, for disabled employees. Contrary to how she expected it, plenty of doors opened for her, and she was more than happy to carefully step through, behind her cane. But it was because of this job, that she couldn't venture off with Gamzee on his countless escapade through the city. Sometimes, she would, but she rarely participated fully.

Gamzee, meanwhile, had been introduced, by people who had lived his life, to harder drugs. At first, they were harmless, hallucinatory drugs. Salvia turned into ecstasy, which turned into LSD. Soon enough, he found himself in a filthy bathroom, surrounded by a crowd of odd people he had never met, placing a straw into his nose, and inhaling a line of white powder. Next thing he knew, he was in an alley way with a few other people, tying a rope around his bicep and bringing the end of a needle closer to a bulging vein in his arm. Eventually, he found himself in an unfamiliar bedroom, beside a naked man eyeing him hungrily, and taking a hit off of a meth pipe.

Nothing else numbed the pain. Nothing else took away the feeling of Tavros in his arms, the warmth and sticky texture of his blood. Nothing else eased the thoughts of being in the shower afterwards, body aching and shuddering from sobbing, and watching Tavros's blood wash down the drain at his feet, the ice cold water feeling like lava.

When he was high on hard drugs, he could return to his life raft and drift along the ocean, not passing anyone, not bothering with anything, simply floating above the ocean he had previously chosen to swim, neglecting to dunk himself in the cool water, and face the challenges of having to hold one's breath. However, the life raft was made of razor blades, constantly slicing his skin, drawing his blood. But the pain felt good, because it drowned out the reminder of the endless ocean below, even though the ocean could easily wash away the blood and treat his wounds. He didn't want that. He wanted the pain. He wanted the 5am, stumbling-into-the-apartment, launching-himself-at-the-toilet, wrapping-up-in-a-burrito-of-blankets, and sweating-the-toxins-away nights. The my-head-feels-detached-from-my-body nights. The I-can't-feel-my-own-skin to I'm-far-too-aware-of-my-own-skin nights. The nights were he couldn't remember his name.

Terezi's position in all of this was just as toxic, as she felt as though she could not speak up. Many a night, Gamzee would stumble home, with or without Terezi, and they would proceed to have cold, unfeeling, too-rough sex, after which Gamzee would slunk into his own bed, and forget that the event transpired at all, while Terezi would be left, shaking and cold, hurting. She felt like she needed arms around her, holding her, comforting her. Gamzee wasn't anywhere near the correct state of mind for such events. Despite the pain he seemed to put her through, she felt the unending need to help him. There was love for him within her. She noticed the troubles he had been going through, and one night, while they both indulged in long, white lines of coke, she offered him assistance.

"I'm afraid it's ruining your life," she had said, sincerely. "I'm worried about you."

"Bitch ain't no need to all up and worry about this motherfucker," Gamzee grinned broadly, his upper lip dusted with white. His expression was warm, but his voice was cold and empty. "Got everything under control."

"But I don't believe you," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as her head swam pleasantly. "I don't want you to get caught up in this life, just because-"

Before she was able to finish her sentence, Gamzee lunged himself at her, his long fingers at her neck, slamming her and pinning her against the shelf unit behind her. She whimpered in pain and flopped against the shelf as he held her there, not strangling her, simply keeping her tight to the spot, looking at her from almost every angle, as though he was unable to stop moving.

"I'm fine," he seethed, his teeth pressed firmly together, his eyes wild behind lowered lids. "I don't be needing you motherfuckers to tell me how I been. And don't you dare… don't you fucking _dare_ mention him around me. _Ever_."

With that, he moved away from her, dropping her to the floor. She curled around herself and clutched herself tightly. Gamzee refused to look at her, but the guilt of his action hung heavily in his heart, and he felt sick to his stomach. The coke wasn't doing enough. He required a harder fix. He sighed heavily, mumbling the word "pathetic" under his breath, snatched his jacket, announced that he was going out, and slammed the door behind him.

The mumbled word felt like poison in Terezi's mind, and she sobbed as she held herself. Little did she know, Gamzee hadn't meant the word for her. He knew he was pathetic, inside and out. He wasn't facing his problems, he was simply running from them, terrified, like a thin dog with his tail between his legs, yelping away from any sign of pain.

He held himself as he walked down the dark alley way, towards a dingy apartment entrance, deep in the worst end of town. At the end of the alley way, stood a tall, narrow door, that looked as though it had been made from drift wood plucked directly from the sea itself. It was dark and rotting, hardly able to hold on to the rusted handle that hung lifelessly from the rotting wood. He gently brought his fist to the door, and knocked at it.

After a few moments, a short, stalky man with an angered expression, bright red hair, and a green t-shirt opened the door, and eyed Gamzee, who was much taller than him, for a long moment. He was remarkably thin, with sunken cheeks and prominent cheekbones and jaw line. His head was almost skeletal and his eyes were piercing and full of greed and malevolence.

"Gamzee," he sneered, before opening the door fully, and allowing room for the other man to walk through. "It's been a while."

"Sorry I didn't all up and call before coming," Gamzee said, his voice quivering as much as his hands. "The ache sorta been hitting me real sudden like."

"It's fine, I understand," the small man said, disappearing into another room.

The apartment was dark, lit only by candles. Furniture, its flesh wide open with claw marks and cigarette burns, look wounded from a battle it hadn't fought. Clothing, food wrappers, bottles, plates and other miscellaneous garbage hung from all over the room, piling in corners, covering the wounded furniture. The dark room seemed somewhat foreboding, not to mention its distinct lack of doors – instead, beads hung from each doorway, or curtains, to separate off sections of the small, crappy apartment. It smelt like sex and drugs and booze, and the deep throb of trip hop played in the background. Gamzee's mind already felt at ease.

"Are you hungry?" the small man asked from the room which had clearly been meant as a kitchen.

"Cal, I been real sincere and mean no offense in this shit, but I ain't in the mood for no motherfucking small talk," he said, his voice shuddering as he tried to elevate its volume.

From the other room, Caliborn laughed. It was a sinister sound, like the cackling of an evil doll. "I understand, Gamzee. I understand perfectly."

Caliborn returned to the room, holding a small vial of lime green slime. It had a bioluminescence to it, and seemed to glow in the darkness, illuminating Caliborn's cunning visage. Gamzee recalled the first time he had ever seen the stuff. He had met Caliborn at a rave downtown, and went home with him with the promise of a "good night". At that point in Gamzee's life, he truly couldn't care less what the implications were of those two words. He simply wanted a night to be good. Calliborn had presented him with a vial much smaller than the one he held now, and Gamzee's eyes lit up.

"They call it Sopor," Caliborn had told him. "It's a strange kind of chemical slime. Completely rots your fucking mind, but it'll give you the best trip you have ever experienced."

Gamzee grinned when he watched as Caliborn brought the vial towards Gamzee, whose fingers twitched as they longed to touch the glowing substance, feel it inside of himself, fall in love with it all over again. Caliborn gestured at a sofa, on which Gamzee practically threw himself, anxious to melt into the fabric, enter the sofa's wounds, become part of the world around him, feel the sickness of the city mixing with his own.

Caliborn unscrewed the lid, and slowly handed the substance to Gamzee, whose shaking hands gripped it tightly, and brought it to his lips. He extended his long tongue, and gently placed the open mouth of the bottle to his tongue, tilting the thing upside down until he tasted the high, the acidity, the ache of the substance to be inside of him as desperately as he wanted it. He then brought his tongue into his mouth, and sucked, feeling the slime run down his throat, entering him, slicing him open so it could go directly into his blood stream, find his brain, and eat away at his emotions. Suddenly, his attack on Terezi, his self-loathing, even thoughts of Tavros bled into each other and faded away, until he was nothing but a shell filled with fluff. A stuffed toy. There was only one word he could use to equate this feeling, and the emptiness it gave him, the things he saw, the way he felt.

"Miracles," he mumbled, and Caliborn laughed as he sucked his own tongue.

A single trip was expensive. A dose was about $60, simply for what he had taken. But Gamzee, so far in this life, in his high, in the serenity, couldn't possibly care less. He forked over the money happily, and melted into the sofa. Caliborn took the cash, thanked him, and left the room, stumbling slightly as he did so. Gamzee watched a candle flicker, and wondered how long it would take him to feel the heat of the candle's flame.

A single bead of wax dripped down the side of the candle's surface, and he felt the constant smile that was upon his visage, fade completely. The candle's tear fell slowly down, only to mix with each other tear, and add to the pile which coalesced at the bottom of the holder. It's in pain, he thought to himself. The candle is crying because of its pain. He felt the need to reach over and stop the assaulting fire. Just as he did so, another being entered the room.

She was short, slender, and beautiful. Her skin was thin and pale and tight upon her tiny frame, and her hair was long, emerald green flushed into snow white. Her visage was a lot like her twin brothers, though far more serene, delicate, comfortable, kind. She didn't seem assaulting when she entered a room. She simply moved like breathing: one could hardly notice her when she silently entered, but one would feel empty when she left. She smiled and blushed gently when she noticed Gamzee staring at her.

"Hey," she pushed a chunk of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes were squinted and red from smoking pot, but her smile was simply perfect. "Gamzee."

"Calliope," he said softly, before moving his legs onto the floor. Through his eyes, flowers blossomed out of her hair, broke free from her pale skin. Butterflies swam through her and luminescent orbs seemed to dance about her, growing wings, then flying away. He blinked slowly in an attempt to clear his mind, but no such thing was possible at this point. Instead, he stared.

She moved slowly towards him, like a breeze floating through the leaves in trees, but never touching him. Instead, she stepped onto the other side of the sofa, and lowered herself onto her legs, watching him from between her knees. She was like the princess of waste and drugs, a single, white, crystal snowflake sitting on a pile of decay. She didn't do the same level of stuff that her twin brother did, and dealt, but she knew enough about the life, and had experienced enough, to watch Gamzee with understanding in her eyes.

The Cherub twins were much younger than him, and Calliope looked up to Gamzee as a sort of older brother, gently holding her hand and gesturing towards the darkness of life ahead of them, and marching into it together, while Caliborn regarded him as another pawn that he plays on the chessboard. Another trophy in his game of suckers. On the other end of the spectrum, Gamzee regarded Caliborn as a supplier to fill his desperate need, while also being the occasional confidant. Calliope, however, was something special to him. Something he wanted to hold dear, and love endlessly. Not romantically, just as though she was something precious that he wanted to preserve.

According to Calliope, they had been abandoned by their parents when they were very young, their mother wanting nothing to do with them, and their father not being able to do anything even if he wanted to. They were found in an alley way, naked and cold, by a couple of meth cookers from out of town, who introduced them to the family business. Caliborn embraced it, while Calliope remained at the edge of the system, looking down on it with indifference. Caliborn treated Calliope as though she was a plague, a hindrance, while Calliope only wanted what was best for both of them. The Life seemed to be the best, easiest way to achieve personal satisfaction in every facet.

It wasn't until far later, that Gamzee embarked home. He stumbled through the door and moved to turn on the light, when the sudden memory of those several hours before came flashing back to him, he hesitated, and lowered his arm. He eyed Terezi, laying in her bed, the moonlight streaming in from the window, highlighting her figure in silver light. He eyed her for a long moment, before practically tearing off his clothes, and flopping onto the bed, to pass out in Sopor Stupor.

Yes, he knew this was routine. It was this way, the same way, every day. It all climaxed into a dreadful plateau. Or what they both hoped had been a plateau. Deep down, Gamzee knew that this was wrong, although it was something that he could not escape. He still hated it. He just wished, as did Terezi, that the climax wouldn't continue – it wouldn't get worse.

Unfortunately, despite that amount of wishing and praying, it did get worse. It got much worse. But it was all in disguise. Because as worse as it got in reality, the better it got for Gamzee.

He began to spend once a week with the Cherub twins. He and Caliborn would indulge in Sopor, gradually charging Gamzee less and less due to how often he went, until Caliborn would get bored and leave, at which point, Calliope, already stoned, would come out into the living room, and sit with Gamzee, smoking bowl after bowl of pure, clean weed.

Calliope often said that weed was the detox drug. It was never as good as anything else, but it eased the pain of the embers that still burn from other drugs inside your system, begging to be fed. Sopor and weed, Sopor and weed, one after the other, a few times a week, to every second day, to every night, to a few times a day. Terezi hardly saw him anymore, and although she maintained her routine of going to work, coming home, maybe indulging in a few drugs by herself, before passing out, alone, she still missed him, desperately.

While Gamzee saw it as detoxing from hard drugs, and lowering the intake to just a little bit of one really bad drug, and a lot of a good one, and Calliope saw it as spending time with Gamzee, which made her feel better and, in turn, made Gamzee feel substantially better, Terezi, meanwhile, suffered, at home, alone, wondering (and worse, not even sure) if Gamzee was even still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Gamzee and Calliope laid in her bed, staring at a slow-moving kaleidoscope light moving on the ceiling, completely naked, and playing with each other's fingers. Gamzee blinked slowly as thoughts wandered through his remarkably high mind, forming pictures and objects around him, while Calliope smiled aimlessly at the simplicity of the moment, seeing pinks and greens and reds and purples. Trip hop throbbed in the background, and eased both their thoughts pleasantly.

"I could live this moment forever," Calliope chimed, her voice like tinkling bells. Gamzee watched as light particles slowly left her mouth.

"Me mother fucking too," he said, his voice like a low moaning. Long purple ribbons left Gamzee's mouth as he spoke.

"Could you really?" Calliope turned her head, and her eyes scanned over Gamzee's thin frame slowly. Gamzee felt her eyes on him like fingertips, and his breath caught slightly.

He turned his head, and looked at Tavros's naked figure. Slowly, his lips stretched into a smile, and he leaned in towards him, his lips aching to taste him, a flavour he hadn't felt he experienced in so long. Suddenly, his face was like a candle, with tears pooling in his eyes, and dripping down his wax face. His hand slowly lifted, and he felt Tavros's collar bone gently, his fingertips tingling with the feeling of his soft skin. His breath escaped him when his lips pressed so softly to Tavros's, kissing him slowly, his tongue tasting, sucking, worshipping his.

Meanwhile, Calliope's voice escaped her lips in a gentle whimper as she desperately ran her fingertips down his body, touching his hip bones hungrily, before slipping further downwards, feeling the heat radiating off of him absorb into her. She heard him gasp when her narrow fingertips softly touched the throbbing skin, hardening further at her touch. She wrapped her fingertips around it and stroked him, watching his face contort, mouth dropping open, eyebrows pulling together in pleasure.

"Tav," Gamzee breathed, and Calliope frowned and paused. Gamzee, meanwhile, extended his hand downwards to feel Tavros once more, and when he felt the soft skin and warm moisture between Calliope's legs, his eyes quickly focused and he pulled his hand away, reality snapping back to him like a leather belt across his face.

"You saw me as your boyfriend," Calliope slowly smiled in realisation.

Gamzee moved away from her, sitting up and looking around for his pants, which were hovering in the air about two feet away, eyeing him with beady, brown eyes. He reached for them, and they fell to the floor and came to his hands. He then proceeded to dress himself.

"No," Calliope moaned in protest, light particles spilling out of her mouth. "Don't leave. It was wrong of me to try that to you. You're not ready, clearly. I don't want you to leave yet."

Gamzee continued to pull his pants on, zip the zipper, pushed the button, which launched out to nip his thumb, through its hole, and did up his belt. He then sighed heavily, and slowly sat back down, reaching forward to take Calliope's hand in both of his. He kissed her slender, pale fingertips slowly, his half-lidded eyes on hers.

"I love you," he told her. "But I can't."

The walk home was difficult, but he had been used to it. Calliope was becoming a drug. She was his detox drug. It was because of her presence in his life that he could survive so easily, that he forgot about the difficulties, his own self-loathing, how pathetic his existence was. She was a ray of light in the darkness of his life. But he loved her for that. He couldn't give her the love she asked of him. He just couldn't.

Once Gamzee was wrapped up in his blankets, preparing to sweat out the slime, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily to slip into hallucinatory unconsciousness.

"You're not going there tomorrow," Terezi said, facing away from him. He had assumed she was asleep, and jumped slightly at the suddenness of her voice, and the fireworks which exploded behind his eyes when she spoke.

"Why," he managed to groan.

"Karkat's coming," Terezi said. "We're going to spend the day with him."

Gamzee opened his mouth to interject, but groaned and clutched himself tightly, knowing his protests would be pointless.

Terezi and Gamzee had spent the day cleaning the apartment, doing a line, washing dishes, doing a line, vacuuming or sweeping, smoking a joint, even starting food, and doing a line. By the time Karkat was due, both were rather stupid and laughing at nothing, the urge to go out and dance around the afternoon streets, almost unbearable. Gamzee wanted more, but he contained himself, for Terezi's sake. For the first time in far too long, he and Terezi actually enjoyed themselves, together, despite being under the influence of far too much drugs. They had a chance to sober up a bit before Karkat finally rung the bell, and Terezi pressed the button to allow him up.

The short boy picked his way through the begrimed building, to the elevator. A sign hung there that told him of the elevator's unavailability. He groaned audibly in annoyance, and went to the stairs, which hardly looked sanitary. The whole place smelt of urine and rot, and he wondered how anyone could survive here. He eventually got to the correct floor, and walked down the revolting hallway, passed rooms which sounded as though either a natural disaster was occurring within, or domestic abuse in practically every room, some clearly engaging in less wholesome activities behind closed doors (some of them not even fully closed).

He eventually got to Terezi and Gamzee's door, and knocked gently. He heard laughter from within it, before Terezi opened the door with a large smile. His face dropped when she looked at them. Terezi's clothes hung off of her and her face was sunken and void of life. She looked as though she worked incessantly for her survival, and squandered half of it on pointless substances. The bags under her eyes were thick, and he could clearly see them behind her red sunglasses she always wore. Her hair looked thin and her teeth didn't look as though they hadn't been brushed in far too long.

Behind her, Gamzee raised his hand, a joint (not containing weed) between his fingers. Karkat could have collapsed when he saw him.

Karkat and Gamzee had been together for a long time. They were first best friends, before feelings for each other began to grow, and in high school, they expanded to something far closer than friends. They were never physical with each other, and even towards the end of high school, they hardly made physical contact other than occasionally holding each other's hand. But their existence for each other seemed enough. Karkat kept Gamzee stable, and although Gamzee didn't often reciprocate (which was one of the main reasons Karkat hadn't allowed himself too close to Gamzee), he was still there for him whenever needed. Karkat remembered Gamzee as a loving, caring man. And what he saw, sprawled out on a beanbag chair in the corner of a room, was merely a shell of what he was.

His skin hung off of his bones. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and his face was sunken. The scars which ran down his face from the accident almost a year before, were prominent against his fragile skin. He was so skinny, and looked as though if you flicked him, he may dissolve completely, into sand, and blow away in the wind. His eyes were bright red and deep in their sockets, and the rings around his eyes, and heavy bags, were the only colour against his pale visage.

"Karbro!" he announced, before taking a drag off of the joint.

"Gamzee," Karkat replied, his voice shuddering.

Terezi's face fell when she noticed Karkat's expression of pure horror. Suddenly, sobriety returned to her fully, and she almost felt ashamed for letting Gamzee get that way. Karkat's expression reminded her of reality, and she swallowed hard, looking away from him. She wasn't sure why she expected him to open his arms and embrace the both of them, despite all they had done throughout the day, to make it look acceptable to Karkat. Of course he would react like this… Look at what had happened to the both of them. Look at what had happened to the man he loved.

"Karkat," Terezi said, softly.

"How," Karkat said, his voice quivering, staying low enough that Gamzee couldn't hear. "How did this happen."

"I didn't pay attention," Terezi said, replying in a quiet voice. "I cared too much about making him forget Tavros, that I forgot to notice what that was turning him into. I'm sorry."

Karkat looked to her, his expression almost apologetic. He sighed and nodded. "We have to get him better," he said. "I'm not leaving until he's better."

The first little while wasn't bad. Gamzee even wanted to stay home and be with Karkat when Terezi was working, which gave him hope that perhaps it was simply a by-product of loneliness. At first, both simply sat with each other, catching up, even gaming and taking the bus to the better end of town simply to get out of that house. Everything seemed fine, until one morning, around 5am, the withdrawals began.

Gamzee had thrown up the contents of his stomach, something which Karkat had a certain level of self-pride in even accomplishing, mostly on his bed, some in a bucket, and the rest in the toilet. Karkat sat with him as he wretched and wretched, heaving up all of his insides into the toilet. He stroked his back, shushing him, insisting he was okay. Afterwards, he curled up in a pile of laundry in the corner of the room with Gamzee, holding him tightly and easing him into a difficult sleep.

The next morning, Karkat made Gamzee a coffee. Things seemed alright, when Gamzee had a sudden mood swing, and tossed the piping hot cup of coffee at Karkat, causing it to smash against the wall, spraying hot coffee in every direction. When Karkat asked why he had done that, Gamzee made up some kind of excuse about it being far too hot or too bitter, and Karkat rolled his eyes, busying himself with cleaning up the mess.

There was another episode later in the day, when Karkat finished cleaning Gamzee's mattress as carefully as possible, when Gamzee simply began to start yelling, swearing, throwing various things and simply freaking out. When Karkat asked him what set him off, he slammed a door and shouted that he was just annoyed, and wanted to go out, but Karkat refused to let him.

Days passed, and it all only became progressively worse. Sometimes, Gamzee would lay in bed and shout, swear, writhe beneath the weight of his own agony, and Karkat would have to sit by and watch him.

It was a cold night when Gamzee finally slipped out from under Karkat's radar. The shorter man was sleeping on an air mattress he had gone out to purchase simply for the sake of watching over the other two, specifically Gamzee, but, as it was, it was the first night that Karkat had slept on something substantial, rather than a pile of clothes, or beside Gamzee. Gamzee plucked his way carefully out of the room, the ache for at least a dose of Sopor far too extreme to endure any longer. He felt like a volcano. His insides were lava, and boiling within him at temperatures his skin couldn't take. He felt as though he may erupt at any moment, and the constant shuddering and sweating was a sign that his skin was about to give way to the flood of lava from within him, and then there would be no repairing him – you can't fix an erupted volcano.

He didn't have the time or capacity to grab his hoodie, and, as it seemed, his ninja-like antics about the house, and the gentle closing of the door, was enough to keep both Karkat and Terezi asleep. He clutched his shaking body tightly as he made his way towards the Cherubs. Once he got to the rotting door, he lifted his knuckle to it, and rather than receiving Caliborn or Calliope at the door, he simply heard a very aggressive "enter" from within the home.

Gamzee was reluctant at first, but eventually entered. Caliborn eyed him, having already knew who was coming to his door, and crossed his legs on his sofa.

"Well, well, well," he sneered. "Look what the cat coughed up. Long time, no see, Gamzee. You look like fucking shit."

"I feel it, man," Gamzee replied, his voice shaking. "Terezi all up and had an old friend of mine come on down into my horror show life, and get real motherfucking incessantly asinine in fixing my shit. Ain't no shit of mine gonna be fixed with his motherfucking help, bro."

"So, I think I have an idea of why you're here," Caliborn said, standing slowly. "But I don't think I'll be able to supply you anymore."

Gamzee's skin went cold, and his heart raced. "Why?" He looked around himself, his brow furrowed. Calliope should have come running to the sound of his voice. "Where's Cally?"

"Dead," Caliborn said, looking down to his fingernails, and picking something out from beneath them. "Bitch offed herself last week. Tried to get a hold of you, but you were clearly preoccupied."

"_Dead_?" Gamzee repeated, his voice falling from his lips like a breath cut short. He clutched himself tighter, staring at the floor, his eyes wide. Suddenly, the lava drained from him, and he simply felt cold and empty. A pang of agony rushed through him at the sudden realisation that he allowed something else he loved, to slip through his fingers. His face once again became a candle, and melted wax tears pooled in his eyes, and escaped his face, rolling down his sweating cheek, mixing with his sweat and getting lost amongst his scars.

"Yeah, dead," Caliborn said, eyeing Gamzee with a small grin, clearly getting a level of sick satisfaction from watching his pain. "Downed a bottle of Xanax. Found her in a pool of her own puke in her bedroom. That was a mess…"

Caliborn's voice trailed off in Gamzee's mind. Gamzee was taking involuntary, slow, painful steps backwards in a feeble attempt to rid himself of reality. Eventually, he found himself pressed against the crappy door behind him, and he stumbled, causing it to open. He fell backwards into the streets, quickly crawling to his feet, and staring at the sweating world beneath him. He thought he heard Caliborn ask him if he was alright, though it was clearly an empty question which Gamzee had no intentions of answering. His head span. He felt like he was going to vomit. He needed a fix.

When Karkat found him the next morning, he was lying on the side of the street, naked, between the legs of some random, semi-conscious woman, who he kicked away. He then knelt down beside Gamzee, and sighed when he saw fresh track marks up his pale, slender arms, vomit in his hair, powder on his nose. Waking him was exceedingly difficult, and even when he was conscious, he wasn't fully awake. His eyes hardly stayed open, and his body was as difficult to hold as water without a container. He dragged him back into his apartment, and brought him to the bathroom. The moment Gamzee's forehead pressed against the porcelain of the toilet, his head stopped spinning like a top, and he wretched into the bowl.

Karkat sat in the bedroom, sitting on the corner of Gamzee's bed, his head in his hands, staring at the floor. After all the progress they had made. After all the effort both had put in, he relapsed even worse than he was before. Karkat couldn't do this. But he also couldn't abandon him. There was only one option: rehab. Karkat peered into the bathroom once everything seemed to go fairly quiet. Gamzee's eyes were half lidded, one more closed than the other, but the state of his consciousness was not clear to Karkat.

"Karkat," he eventually mumbled. Karkat knelt onto the floor, and leaned towards Gamzee to hear him better. Gamzee's eyes widened then narrowed, piercing directly into Karkat's gaze. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Karkat felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he moved away from him, not bothering to hide his expression of hurt, before clearing his thoughts and sucking it up, shaking his head. "I'm not going to do that, Gamzee. You've hurt Terezi enough, and I don't want to see her in pain any longer."

"Then you best be telling her to get the fuck out too," Gamzee snarled in reply, his voice hoarse, like a deep rumbling.

"Are you even able to fucking grasp all the shit we've done for you, Gamzee?" Karkat growled back. "Or has the scum you've been so lustfully injecting into your arm completely scrambled your fucking head. Terezi's given up her entire fucking career for your sake, and she feels like she's a failure. Like she was just another pawn you played on this all-engorging chessboard that is your fucked up addict life. But you wouldn't know that, because you're never fucking around."

"Fuck you, man," Gamzee mumbled. "You ain't been knowing shit."

"I know enough that you're letting one problem consume your entire life. You have to learn to let go, Gamzee. He's gone and he isn't coming back. He wouldn't have wanted you to let yourself get like this-"

Just as he was finishing his sentence, Gamzee launched himself off of the floor, out the door, and onto Karkat, slamming his hand into Karkat's neck, knocking the air out of him, and not allowing him to inhale. He began to panic, and grasped at Gamzee's arms, trying to free himself, but he was overpowered by the much larger, and despite the drugs, still much stronger man.

His voice came like a growling rather than an actual voice, and he spoke through his teeth, his breath wreaking of vomit, and spittle flying out from between his dry, cracked lips. His eyes were wild and red, deep in their sockets, surrounded by bags and darkness. Karkat coughed and scrambled under him.

"Don't you be fucking acting like you been all understanding the shit I been going through, motherfucker," Gamzee seethed. "You don't know shit what it is like to lose someone like that."

"Maybe not," Karkat wheezed under Gamzee's hand, tears streaming down the sides of his face. "But I don't want to find out."

Gamzee paused and slowly pulled his hand away, his eyes widening and sunken face dropping. Karkat rolled to his side, clutching his chest and coughing, gasping for breath. Once he seemed to recover, he slowly turned, and found Gamzee's face still fallen, watching Karkat closely.

"I don't want to lose you," Karkat continued, meeting his eyes to Gamzee's. "You piss me off endlessly, and sometimes I hate you. But I still love you. Despite all your fucking shit, I still love you. And I'm losing you. I hardly even know who you are anymore. You're some kind of superficial, hollow husk slowly dissolving in the wind. You aren't you, and I want to try to remind you of who and what you used to be. I can't abandon you when you're like this."

"But what if old me's gone," Gamzee asked, his voice low, but much less threatening. He simply sounded sad. "What if this gonna be the way it motherfucking be forever, bro."

"I know you're still in there," Karkat said, slowly reaching out, and touching one of Gamzee's long, slender fingers. "And I'm not going to stop searching you until you're healthy again, do you fucking understand me?"

Gamzee felt his eyes fill with burning, acidic tears. He hadn't felt anything in so long, but he felt this. He felt these tears. They broke through the broken, wax shell, and fell down his face, cutting through to what he used to be. Karkat's bottom lip quivered, and he reached out to wipe a tear away, but the moment his fingertips touched Gamzee's cheek, Gamzee lunged at him, sobbing heavily into Karkat's shoulder, wrapping his slender arms around him. Karkat sighed and shushed him gently, rubbing his back while he sobbed.

"I just miss him so fucking much," Gamzee wept.

"I know," Karkat sighed, gently kissing Gamzee's hair and shushing. "It's okay. You're okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Gamzee looked up to Karkat, his eyes and face soaked. Karkat gently touched the side of his face and Gamzee's eyes fluttered shut, as he leaned into his touch. Karkat was reluctant at first, but eventually could no longer last, he leaned down, and gently pressed his lips to Gamzee's. At first, it was like kissing a stone; his lips were cold and dry. But, as though warmed and awakened by Karkat's lips, Gamzee began to return the kiss, with a deep, shaking exhale. Karkat slowly entwined his hands into Gamzee's hair and pulled his face closer, leaning over him. Gamzee's own hands found Karkat's sides and he slid his hands under Karkat's black shirt, hungrily feeling his skin.

Gamzee found himself lying back, between Karkat's legs, his hands running up and down Karkat's back, kissing him like he hadn't kissed anything in far too long. Desperately, ravenously, passionately. Eventually, Karkat sat up, and pulled off his shirt, Gamzee's own following his, and he eagerly kissed Gamzee's collarbones, tasting the salty sweat on his skin. Gamzee's breath caught slightly, as Karkat gently nibbled at his neck and shoulders, while grinding his hips against Gamzee's. Gamzee lifted his hips, producing a low moan from both of them.

It didn't take long before Gamzee was inside him, with the help of a few products that eased the motion. Karkat rode him slowly, whimpering and moaning with each movement, while Gamzee dug his fingertips into Karkat's hips, breathing heavily and moaning softly, his eyes so tightly on Karkat's body, watching him as he moved, that Karkat could nearly feel them physically running down his skin. Karkat's back arched and he let out a long, loud moan as he felt Gamzee press against his prostate, as deep as he could be, and Gamzee whimpered, shuddering from the pleasure, as he gently stroked the other man. Both orgasms were very close together, hard, and quivering. Afterwards, Karkat collapsed beside Gamzee, breathing heavily, still whimpering from the after-effects. Gamzee held him close, finally feeling contentment for the first time in far too long. Contentment was always the happy consequence of passion.

In the middle of the night, Karkat awoke to Gamzee shivering violently, muttering to himself, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids. He frowned, and pulled the blanket up further over the both of them, holding him close, and easing him through the night.

They admitted him into a rehabilitation centre the following week. The nights before, Karkat had spent holding Gamzee close and rocking back and forth with him while he shivered and sweated. He couldn't keep food down, couldn't sleep, could hardly walk half the time. And Karkat hadn't left him the entire time.

The rehab centre put him on a prescription of methadone to assist with weaning off the drugs. Karkat had to return home, but he visited two or three times a week, for three months. At first, it was difficult, as he spent most nights screaming or shivering or crying because of how much his body ached and desperately craved the toxins he used to feed it. Eventually, however, they became fewer and farther between, and the dosage of his medication decreased. Terezi was also admitted to recover from her cocaine addiction, and she had a far easier time, and was released a month before Gamzee.

The day Gamzee was released, Karkat had managed to encourage Gamzee's closest friends to convene in Gamzee's newly-cleaned home. Everything was like a fresh start, and clean slate, something new and exciting. He had missed the sight of Equius and Nepeta, and even Sollux and Aradia agreed to join. They sat around and had a few drinks, ordered pizza, and caught up with each other's lives. Watching Gamzee smile and laugh again, was enough to set his mind at ease.

He had filled back into his skin, very pleasantly. His hair was clean and although it was still messy, it seemed well kempt. His teeth and eyes were white, and even his posture had improved. He glanced over at Karkat, taking a drag off of his cigarette, before grinning and nodding at him. Karkat rolled his eyes and smirked in return.

At first, any journeys Gamzee made outside the home, needed to be guarded by someone, usually Karkat or Terezi. Karkat's semester had ended, and he was given time off, most of which he had spent at Gamzee's. His progress was better some days than others, but all in all, Karkat seemed to be impressed. Gamzee met some individuals with whom he used to hang out, but conversations with them hardly lasted longer than a fleeting greeting or momentary small talk. Gamzee seemed more focused on getting food or walking about in the parks. Karkat allowed him the occasional bowl of pot, as it eased his nerves during the days that weren't going as well. Sometimes, his mood swings seemed almost out of control, to the point of him threatening attempting suicide. Usually, Karkat seemed to keep him sated and calm simply with his presence. Gamzee looked into acquiring a job, and put out a few resumes, though many establishments turned him away when seeing what he looked like, or learning about his history. He did get a few call-backs, however, and some places seemed promising. Other than that, he kept the apartment clean, began doodling and practising his juggling as pass-times when his usual company was preoccupied, and even vocalised intentions on returning to university.

When Gamzee could travel on his own, he was rather proud of his accomplished independence. He didn't go anywhere he shouldn't, he spoke to no one who would unhealthily affect his life, and he took pride in his self-control. Over all, he felt much better. He no longer felt as though his head was trapped in a washing machine, that didn't even clean out his mind, and he even managed to take a few steps on the road to accepting that two of the most important men in his life, were dead, including a good and more recent friend of his, and although that wasn't going to change, the memories with each of them were better than dwelling on the unchangeable.

He had been out to retrieve milk, Faygo, and chocolate from the corner store. Karkat had returned home for the week, and Terezi was working late, and would probably pass out when she got home. Gamzee figured he might as well pick her up something for when she awoke, and his mind was wandering through the potential things she would like. He eyed various bags of candy and things, idly playing with his bottom lip, while the cashier listened to music. He considered purchasing a bucket of jujubes, because she did adore the red ones. As he was leaving the store with his items in a bag, he was stopped by a sudden sound.

"Hey there," he heard the hissing voice of an old friend. "Long time no see again, Gamzee."

Gamzee turned and swallowed hard when he saw Caliborn emerge from the darkness, a sinister expression on his face.

"Sup, bro," he said, quickly, not stopping as he headed back home.

"What's the rush?" Caliborn followed him. "I just wanted to catch up. You've been busy, I heard. Hitched the sobriety train. Good on you, man. I'd never have the balls for that shit. Went the whole rehab route, I heard. Probably wasn't your choice, am I right?" he cackled. "Listen man, I'm sorry how shit went down when we last saw each other. I guess I shouldn't have approached it that way. It's my fault. Guess it's just been tough without her, you know?"

"I can be imagining that shit, bro," Gamzee said, holding his things tighter.

"Yeah, so," Caliborn dismissed the topic. "I know you're sober and all, but I just got a whole Q of Sopor in yesterday. You know that shit isn't like other drugs. You ain't gonna relapse or nothing. A little slime won't hurt you."

"Thanks, bro," Gamzee said, not looking to the shorter male. "But I been getting my head clear and I've all up and realised that I don't need that shit to be understanding them miracles, man. I been good on my motherfucking own, and getting back on that motherfucking horse ain't gonna do shit for that. I got this bro, I been not all up and prepared in taking no steps backwards now."

"Gamzee, truth is," Caliborn jogged to be ahead of him, and turned to face him. "I'm a bit short on cash at the moment. I could really use a little help, so I figured we could just put our hands in each other's pockets for a while, you know? I can't even afford the milk you have in your bag, man. You understand?"

"I'm real motherfucking sorry to hear that, bro," Gamzee still didn't look to him, attempting to get away from him as quickly as possible. "I could all up and front you a couple bucks, but that be really all I been motherfucking had lately. Sorry, man."

"You're not just gonna leave me like this, are you, Gamzee?" Caliborn's eyes were like red hot irons burning into Gamzee's exposed flesh. "High and dry like? I can't even afford the rent on my place. I'm gonna get kicked out. I have nowhere to go!"

"I can't be helping you bro," Gamzee insisted. "This shit ain't on me."

"Damn straight it's on you," Caliborn snarled, before pausing, and relaxing, a small smile stretching across his face. "Fine. Have it your way, then."

Suddenly, Caliborn reached behind himself, and produced a pistol, which had been tucked under the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. Gamzee widened his eyes, and paused, not at all expecting this turn of events to transpire. Caliborn didn't hesitate in cocking the gun, his arm not shaking or faltering as the mouth of the gun laughed ruthlessly at Gamzee.

"I didn't want it to have to be this way, but you're not leaving me much of a choice, here," Caliborn growled. "Put the bag on the ground, and give me everything you have on you. Now!"

Gamzee slowly lowered his bag of items to the ground, before reaching into his deep pockets, and retrieving a few coins, the change and receipt from the purchase, a roach, the stub of a movie ticket, and some old bread crumbs from his pockets, placing that on the ground as well. Caliborn then shook the end of the gun, demanding for Gamzee to step away. Gamzee slowly raised his hands and did as he was told, watching Caliborn with a calm expression, though his heart was racing. Caliborn slowly picked up Gamzee's discarded things and while he did so, Gamzee took this as an appropriate time to extend a hand behind him, as he was nearing closer to the side of a building, and search for something he could use to potentially defend himself.

He almost made a small sound in victory as his fingertips brushed against the cold, rusted, metal surface of a crowbar. He slowly wrapped his long, slender fingers around the bar, and lifted it off the ground, noiselessly, hiding it behind himself, his eyes still tightly upon Caliborn, whose pistol was lowered, defenses down. Slowly, he stepped towards him, the crowbar in his white-knuckled grasp, well hidden behind his back. He envisioned himself inching closer and closer to him, before whipping the crowbar from behind his back, and clocking it over Caliborn's too-round head. It seemed like the perfect plan. It would knock him out, while giving Gamzee a chance to get away, and perhaps inform the cops.

Unfortunately, when Gamzee was about four feet away from Caliborn, the latter finally finished counting the change, and his attention was diverted back to Gamzee. He narrowed his eyes when he noticed that Gamzee was clearly hiding something. Gamzee threw caution to the wind, knowing there was probably no chance of him escaping this situation, he raised the crowbar, and attempted to attack Caliborn.

Caliborn, being much smaller and equipping a much lighter weapon, managed to scramble away, and ready the pistol. Gamzee stopped and lowered the crowbar, realising his situation only milliseconds before Caliborn squeezed the trigger.

The feeling of the bullet entering Gamzee's gut was like someone had kicked him in his stomach. He was pushed backwards, but managed to regain balance, before the pain actually kicked in. At first, it was a dull, throbbing pain, which got worse as his body slipped out of the initial shock of the situation. His hands found his stomach, and pressed against the hole in his skin, feeling it immediately wet and sticky with his own blood. He slowly looked down to himself, whimpering in pain and shock, before looking back up to Caliborn, his eyes wide. Caliborn's expression was blank, as he fired another two shots, one in Gamzee's shoulder, and the other closer to his chest. Gamzee fell backwards and landed on the cement with a loud thump. Unconsciousness gripped him and pulled him under and, before he knew it, he was lost in oblivion, darkness closing in around him, slipping away, lying in a pool of his own blood, in a back street, dying, alone.

Terezi was confused as to why there was a distinct lack of Gamzee in the apartment when she returned home. She had called out his name, since it wasn't as though she could see him, and received no answer. She called out again, and, again, nothing. She assumed he had gone out to get a few things, and took to having a shower. She carefully picked her way through the home and into the bathroom, before removing her clothing, and stepping into the warm, running water. Afterwards, she left the shower, and called out for Gamzee again. This time, she received an answer, but it wasn't Gamzee's voice who called back. Instead, it was like the snarling of a wolf pup, returning to her ears.

"I'm just dropping off a little something," the voice said. "I figured Gamzee meant this for you."

"Who are you?" Terezi demanded, staring off into the darkness, yearning for at least temporary sight.

"Just a friend," the voice replied. "I figure you'll be seeing more of me around here. Catch you later, Terezi."

With that, the voice left the room. Terezi called after it, but received no reply. She tapped her cane against the walls and objects about the home, before making her way to where the voice had stood. She reached her hand along the table, feeling the smooth, wooden surface, until it was suddenly halted by a strange, cylindrical object. A container, she assumed. She carefully picked up, and felt it in her hands for a long moment, before her fingertips managed to find and grip the lid, pulling it off. She immediately smelt jujubes and smiled at Gamzee thinking to pick these up for her. However, another scent assaulted her senses, and she immediately frowned. She slowly reached her hand into the container, and instead of feeling the soft, dry, shaped candies, she felt a candy, covered in something warm, wet, and sticky. She reluctantly brought the candy to her lips, and extended her tongue. At first, she could only taste the red essence of the jujube, her favourite flavour, and her tongue experimented around the surface, until it stopped at the sticky stuff. At the flavour of it, she dropped the container of jujubes onto the floor, hearing them scattering on the surface. Her hands shook and her eyes were wide, her mouth ajar as she registered the flavour: metallic, and salty. Blood. The jujubes were covered in… Blood.

She let out a blood-curdling scream, and stepped away from them, her shaking hands quickly finding the phone. She dialed Karkat's number, and listened the dial tone for what felt like hours, before Karkat finally answered. Before he could even get a chance to talk, Terezi managed to cry out a very desperate. "Get over here, now. Something's wrong."

"What is it?"

"Just get over here," she shouted. "NOW."


	4. Chapter 4

Gamzee looked around himself. He had been sitting on his bed. Not his usual bed, the one in the dorm. His things were piled haphazardly at the back of his bed, a container of peanut butter open on his desk, his laptop half-open at the end of his bed. He inhaled, and could smell pot fumes. Slowly, he turned his head.

Beside him, Tavros sat in his bed, pipe in hand, taking a hit. He held it for a long time, his eyes slowly closing, before exhaling through his nose, two white puffs of smoke exiting his nostrils, like a bull snorting in cold weather. His eyes slowly opened, before he nodded in acknowledgement, and leaned over towards Gamzee, extending his the pipe towards him. Gamzee, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, slowly leaned over, and took it from him, followed by a lighter, and lighting the shredded plant within, and taking a deep toke. He held it for a long moment, before slowly opening his eyes, and exhaling the lungful. A broad smile crept across his face when he felt his mind ease into a gentle, cradling high.

"I'm dead, isn't I?" Gamzee asked, looking over to Tavros.

"Share that shit," Tavros grinned, leaning towards him. Gamzee chuckled, and passed the pipe and lighter back to him. He took a deep hit. "Do you think this is heaven?"

"It must be," Gamzee watched Tavros with half-lidded eyes. "I ain't been in knowledge of something that been feeling so good and perfect since you been dead. It's motherfucking miracles, bro."

Tavros chuckled. "Miracles," he mocked, passing the pipe back. "Babe, these aren't any miracles."

"Then what is it?" Gamzee asked, before taking a hit.

Tavros smiled at him. "It just is."

With that, he stood from the bed, and walked over to Gamzee, his legs working as though there had never been a problem with them. Gamzee opened his arms and laid back, to welcome Tavros into his embrace. He held him tightly, facing him, gently tracing a fingertip down the bridge of Tavros's nose, to his lips, smiling at the feeling of his skin, warm and soft. Tavros smiled and leaned towards him, pressing their lips so softly against each other. Gamzee slowly exhaled in the kiss, feeling as though it was the first one they ever had, even though it was probably the millionth.

"I don't want this to stop," Gamzee said, his voice low.

"I know," Tavros frowned, scanning Gamzee's face, his large, brown eyes falling down the contours of Gamzee's visage. "But it's going to, soon."

"I been figuring," Gamzee sighed. "Nothing real been staying long much lately."

"Have you even been paying attention?" Tavros's eyes narrowed slightly. "Karkat has pretty much given himself to help you, and keep you stable. Not to mention Terezi's constant sacrificing for you, including getting addicted to drugs, and even giving herself physically, in efforts to keep you happy. You know your friends haven't abandoned you. The bad shit may seem heavier than the good shit, but there's still a lot of good shit to hold on to, you know?"

Gamzee smirked, an eyebrow raised, before chuckling, and nodding. "I guess you's right," he then paused as he placed his hand on the side of Tavros's face. "But I been missing you, bro. I been all up and real missing you a whole motherfucking lot. Been really thinking that I ain't capable of dealing without you in my motherfucking life, y'know?"

"You've been doing well," Tavros replied. "I mean, the drugs are a little unexpected and incredibly unhealthy, but you have to stay off of them."

Gamzee closed his eyes and smiled, not fully listening to Tavros's words as he spoke, and merely taking in the sound of his voice, as though it was a breath of fresh air after spending so long breathing in dust. "Man, I really been missing your voice telling me what I should and shouldn't be getting done in life."

"Well then listen to my advice now," Tavros sat up slightly, and looked at Gamzee deeply. "You need to leave that neighbourhood, because it's just not healthy for you anymore. Frankly, I don't believe it ever was. But Terezi's leaving it, you know she has plans, and I'm sure Karkat would be more than happy to take you in for a while, while you found some place else. You know Caliborn's going to be coming after you once he finds out you survived, because now you're a liability."

"I ain't been harbouring no intentions on staying," Gamzee told him. "But when putting thought onto this foolish issue, I guess now's good enough a motherfucking excuse as any."

"And don't ever look back to this life," Tavros held Gamzee's face in his hands, speaking to him so intensely, it felt as though he spoke directly into the very essence of his being. "Think fondly of me, but don't act as though I've just been kidnapped and you're searching for me. Do the same for your dad, and for Calliope. Don't waste your life on the pursuit of something permanently gone. Don't push people out of your life. Embrace the life you're living, and remember that it's the only one you have, so don't be fucking stupid with it, and waste it away. You taught me that…"

Gamzee smiled slowly, his eyes filling with tears again. Tavros sniffed and smiled fondly, wiping a tear away as it slowly fell down Gamzee's cheek.

"Too many tears have been spilt for me," Tavros said, wiping the tear away. "It's time to focus that energy on yourself, and the people around you who love you."

"Don't leave me," Gamzee said, unable to contain his pleading any longer. "Please. I can't watch you all up and go, again. I lost you once."

Tavros wrapped his arms around Gamzee and held him tightly, burying his face into Gamzee's neck. Tears spilt from Gamzee's eyes as he embraced him, so tightly, for fear that he would be lost if he loosened his grip even slightly. Part of him was well aware that his time with Tavros was limited, and surely about to end. However, although he was sure he would be capable of survival without Tavros at his side, truthfully, he didn't want to do it any longer. He couldn't put up with it. He couldn't be without him.

Tavros moved away from him, and looked him in his eyes. Slowly, he kissed him, allowing it to grow in passion, Gamzee taking the moment to allow his hands to explore Tavros's figure for the last time. Not sensually, simply as a means of remembering him, touching him, reminding his fingertips and palms of the feeling of Tavros beneath them. Tavros then parted from him, and smiled.

"I love you, Gamzee," he said. "And that will never change. Some kind of universal constant, or something. But I can't keep you anymore. I'm willing to let you go. Let you be happy. Let you be at peace. Will you do the same for me?"

Gamzee's choked back a tight sob which rose in his throat, and swallowed hard, touching Tavros's face, running his fingers through his Mohawk. "I love you back," he said, his eyelids suddenly growing heavier, the feeling of sleep washing over him. He blinked once to keep his eyes open, his fingertips not straying from Tavros's face. "Rest well, brother."

When Gamzee awoke, his head swam and his body felt oddly detached from his head. He blinked slowly, and managed to swivel his eyes to either side of him, perceiving the world as being incredibly blurry, and bright. Eventually, shadows and shapes began to form, and sense came out of things. He remembered the feeling of being shot, three times, then the world going black. Soon enough, the silhouette of an individual began to materialise to his right, and he managed to inhale enough air to squeeze out a choking cough. The figure moved at his sound, and became much larger – he assumed by standing – and leaning over him. He slowly closed his eyes again, his head swimming about in his skull, numbing his pain.

"Gamzee," came a muffled voice. Gamzee grinned slightly, but he wasn't sure if it actually made it to his face. It was Karkat. Of course it was Karkat. "Hey, man." His voice sounded hoarse. In the back of his mind, he could hear Karkat shouting at a doctor and plethora of nurses when he was first brought to the hospital. Internally, he chuckled. "So, like, you're in the hospital, if you hadn't previously deciphered that yourself, which I'm sure you would have, by now. Um… Terezi and I found you after she called me. Apparently some fucker showed up at your house and threatened her. He had a whole fucking tub full of your blood all over these candies. I don't know, maybe that makes more sense to you than it does to me, because right now, it makes about as much sense as a hitching a ride on a meteor to visit new planets. We don't know who shot you… Though I'm guessing you probably do. We sort of just found you, lying in the street. You had to have a blood transfusion, because you lost an awful lot of blood, but apparently that seems to be going well, since you're not, like, convulsing and having reactions and shit. They got the bullets out. The one went right through your shoulder, though, so… That one wasn't difficult. The rest, they kind of had to fish out.

"I was so worried," he continued, his voice faltering, quivering slightly. "Gamzee, I was so fucking worried. I thought you were dead. And the doctors… They wouldn't tell me the chances of you surviving. I got a little… Frustrated. Well, you know my fucking temper. But seeing you like that… Your blood…"

"Bro," Gamzee managed to squeak out. Karkat suddenly stopped speaking, and practically lunged himself at Gamzee.

"Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Should I ring a nurse?" Karkat fussed. Gamzee reached an arm up, and carefully took Karkat's wrist in his long fingers.

"I saw Tavros," Gamzee smiled slowly. "Been looking real alright. Told me to move on and shit. Been thinking it's about time I all up and do that. Get my ass outta that shit hole I been living in, you know?"

"I think that's a great idea," Karkat said, looking down to him with a level of confidence. "I mean, if you wanted to, you could move in with me. If, like, that sounds like something you'd consider."

"Yeah," Gamzee said, stopping Karkat's rambling with a comforting grin. "I been real all up and considering such things, bro."

Karkat's expression seemed to fall, not in a dismayed fashion, but, instead, for the first time in probably far too long, simple relief. It was clear that a massive weight was being lifted off his shoulders, simply with the fact that Gamzee seemed to be so willing to change such a huge part of his life, for the sake of his own health. Something, that is, further than the choice of going to rehab, which was a massive step in the first place. He laid his head down onto the side of the bed, and Gamzee softly stroked his dark hair, a small smile still upon his thin lips.

A week later, Gamzee taped up the last box full of his things, and looked back into the empty apartment. Terezi had moved out a few days after Gamzee returned from the hospital, so her things were already long gone, and now, so were Gamzee's. Terezi, Karkat, and Gamzee had spent the day packing and cleaning. They had called upon some help from their friends, and managed to get Equius, Nepeta, and Sollux to assist them. The others were already downstairs, Equius loading the heavy things into the truck, Sollux and Karkat loading smaller boxes, and Terezi and Nepeta helping place them neatly within the truck (which was mostly Terezi lifting the boxes Sollux put down, walking a few steps in a designated direction, and handing it to Nepeta). The apartment had been sufficiently cleaned, enough for the next poor soul to move in, and Gamzee was more than ready to finish cutting ties.

He looked down to the box he finished taping, and carefully bent down to lift it. He underestimated its weight, and as he tried to lift it off the ground, a stabbing pain came from his still-healing wounds, and he dropped it, loudly, with an inhaling hiss through his teeth. Karkat, who was already on his way up to check on Gamzee, heard the falling box, and broke into a run down the hall, into the room, and to Gamzee's side, who was doubled over in recuperation from the pain.

"You've gotta stop fucking doing that, man," Karkat said, carefully helping him to stand straight.

"Motherfucking bullshit, bro," Gamzee groaned, as he straightened. "I been real motherfucking tired and sick of all this motherfucking pain."

"I know," Karkat said, and wrapped his arms around Gamzee's waist to hold him upright, and look him deeply into his half-lidded eyes. "It won't be long, now. Things are going to get better."

Gamzee snaked his arms under Karkat's, and pushed Karkat's arms upwards, to around his neck, before holding Karkat closer to him, his own arms around Karkat's waist. He smiled down at him, and gently placed a soft kiss upon his lips. "I know, bro," Gamzee assured him, as Karkat pushed a chunk of hair out of Gamzee's face, to better see his eyes. "I'm real motherfucking ready for this shit."

"Good," Karkat said, resting his head onto Gamzee's chest. "Me too."

Unloading his things and managing to somehow fit it all into Karkat's already-crowded apartment, was a task in itself. Equius and Gamzee handled most of the heavy lifting (Equius insisting on taking most of the weight, so as to not cause further harm to Gamzee), while Nepeta and Terezi dealt with making room inside the apartment, and Sollux and Karkat handled boxes. After everything seemed to be in place, and well enough moved in (the unpacking of boxes and placing of various things would be something Gamzee and Karkat could handle alone), Gamzee declared that a break for a bite to eat would be beneficial for the group. All agreed, and ventured to the local pizzeria.

The conversation between the group, was idle, though stayed interesting. Sollux and Karkat seemed to form a rather strong friendship since meeting, and even though Sollux still wasn't the Gamzee's biggest fan, he still respected him, with the knowledge that no one should live life the way he had been. Nepeta and Terezi indolently gossiped, while Equius and Gamzee discussed various things, including how Equius's schooling was going, his most recent projects (something about robotic appendages), and Gamzee's health. Once their orders came, the conversation seemed to trail off and fade as they consumed their food. Gamzee paused in his chewing, to glance over to Terezi, who sat beside him. She brought a slice of pizza to her mouth, her unseeing eyes staring off into the distance, and something caught Gamzee's eye.

"Terezi, hang on," he said, and Terezi immediately lowered her slice, confused.

Gamzee narrowed his eyes and leaned in towards the pizza, pausing when he saw what was hidden underneath the cheese. He switched their plates, told Terezi she was alright to eat (which she did without hesitation), and lifted the cheese. Underneath, sat a bright, red jujube, covered in sauce. As he plucked it from the pizza, Karkat watching him closely, and brushed off the sauce, he realised that it wasn't only red coating the jujube.

He dropped it onto his plate, and looked around himself, out the windows, and in the other booths, his searching becoming more and more frantic when he realised he couldn't see anyone else, other than various other customers. He excused himself and stood up, Karkat standing as well, incessantly drilling Gamzee for his sudden actions, and following him as he began to walk about the restaurant, eyeing the customers closely.

He scanned face after face, seeing only unfamiliar visages of perplexed individuals. He kept his gaze outside as well, desperate to see that gremlin face pressed against the glass, mocking him. He suddenly heard the bathroom door close, and he pitched himself in that direction, slamming open the bathroom door, and entering the dingy lavatory. Inside, a fluorescent light flickered as a suggestion that its life was almost up, and a stall door slowly swung open, revealing no one inside. He headed towards the aisle of stalls, noting that all the urinals were empty, and pressed his fingertips against the cold, metal doors, pushing them open slowly, each in succession, revealing nothing within any of them. Once he was satisfied that each stall was void of anything, other than stagnant toilets, he spun around to leave the bathroom, and stopped when he noticed large, red writing across the mirrors.

"BROADCASTING TOWER," the writing read. "ALONE. FINISH THIS NOW."

He stared at it for a long moment, before dashing out of the bathroom, towards his group of friends, who were talking amongst themselves. Sollux, Nepeta, Equius, Terezi…

"Where's Karkat?" he asked, standing beside the table.

"He got up when you did," said Sollux. "Bathroom, maybe?"

Gamzee's blood ran cold. He apologised profusely, tossed a couple coins onto the table to pay his and Karkat's share of the bill, and then ran from the restaurant, arm extended as he shouted for a taxi.

About ten minutes out of town, in a field, overlooking a massive wheat crop behind it, stood the broadcasting tower, atop which sat the ever-blinking, red eye, beckoning him towards it. Once the taxi driver was close enough to it, Gamzee tossed him a bill or two, uncaring of the amount, and launched himself out of the vehicle. He jogged towards the tower, until his heavy breathing and the motion from jogging sent sharp pains through him, from his wounds. He grunted in pain, clutching himself, before continuing towards the tower. He wasn't sure what, exactly, was waiting for him at the tower and, frankly, he couldn't care less. He simply wanted to ensure Karkat's safety. He couldn't lose another one.

In the shadow of the tower, the evening sun hanging low in the sky and casting an eerily-long shadow upon the ground, stood two, short figures. The closer he got, the more he could make out the features, and the more he realised that it had been Caliborn, clutching Karkat, a pistol to Karkat's temple. Gamzee slowed to a walk when he was close enough to them.

"Well, well, well!" Caliborn shouted. "Long time, no see, Gamzee! You're looking better."

"What's you motherfucking want," Gamzee demanded.

Caliborn shrugged, waving the pistol around Karkat's head, causing Karkat, who had a blindfold around his eyes, to flinch slightly, feeling the motion and being unable to see what caused it. "I wanted a lot of things in my life. I guess I never assumed thriving would be this difficult. But I'm this far into it, Gamzee! There's no turning back now. It's either you, or me!"

"Bro, listen," Gamzee lifted his arms, still slowly approaching. "None of this shit be needing to all up and go down. Let him go, and I give you my motherfucking word, that I ain't gonna say shit about none of this. About you shooting me, about kidnapping Karkat, nothing. I'll be keeping that shit to myself, bro, I swear."

"You really think I'm just going to trust you like this, Gamzee?" Caliborn's beady eyes narrowed. "That I'm just going to let you leave with your boyfriend and walk away from all of this forever?"

"You have my motherfucking word!"

"Your word don't mean shit, Gamzee!" Caliborn cried out, cocking the gun. "I need closure! I need to know that all this shit is going to pass by me, and I'm not going to have a scratch. Now, here's how this is going to work. You and this little fucker right here, are gonna switch places, got it? If I don't have you kneeling on the ground in ten seconds, I'm going to blow this fucker's head off, Gamzee, and that's a fucking promise."

Gamzee didn't hesitate to run to them. He dropped to his knees and lowered his head, his arms still up, begging for Caliborn to let Karkat go. Caliborn scowled at the man in his arms, before tossing him aside, and firing the gun at his feet, causing Karkat to jump and run off. Gamzee watched him run away, relief washing over him, hoping he would be able to get far enough away, that Caliborn couldn't harm him any longer. At least he would be safe. That would be enough for him. As he felt the rounded mouth of the gun press into his scalp, he closed his eyes, already feeling Tavros's skin underneath his fingertips, his lips against his. He let out a deep exhale.

"I really wish it didn't have to be this way," Caliborn snarled, cocking the gun. Gamzee could hear the creaking metal within the weapon, and the bullet prepare itself for departure. "You were a great guy, truly. A great friend, good to my sister. Well, before I killed her too." Gamzee flinched at those last words. "Anyways, I guess it's time I better finish this. Then I'll go after your little friend, and kill him too, then probably take care of that blind bitch as well. Loose ends, and all that. Welp, goodbye, Gamzee."

Gamzee closed his eyes tightly, feeling a loss of control over himself. This was how it was going to end. He begged to whomever was listening that Karkat get away safely, take Terezi, and inform someone, anyone. He prepared himself for the loud sound, the earth-shattering bang that would be the last sound his ears would ever sense. The last real, tangible thing he would ever perceive. This was it.

The bang came. It wasn't as loud as he anticipated, if he was to be honest with himself. In fact, frankly, it sounded dull. More like the sound of metal upon something soft and heavy. Furthermore, the sound was followed by a loud "thump". It could have been the sound of his own body, falling onto the ground, but something about it seemed odd, considering he felt as though he was still on all fours. He felt a breeze brush through his hair, and he slowly opened his eyes, finding himself staring down at the gun, loosely grasped in Caliborn's hand. Was he dead? He didn't feel dead. Then again, how was dead supposed to feel?

He slowly raised himself to his feet, and looked down to the ground, finding a rather unconscious Caliborn lying there. Beside the body, stood Karkat, wielding an odd, hook-shaped instrument used for cutting wheat, the heavy metal handle of which he used to strike Caliborn's head, knocking him out. Karkat dropped the sickle and looked at Gamzee, his eyes wide, his expression blank.

A moment passed between them that felt like centuries, before they were in each other's arms, holding each other tightly. Karkat couldn't help but allow tears to fall down his face, while Gamzee comforted him, rubbing his back, and shushing him gently. Karkat wept softly into Gamzee's shirt, the shock leaving his body in the easiest method – tears. Gamzee knew that well.

They managed to find a few chains and things, which they used to tie Caliborn to the tower. Afterwards, they ventured into a building, full of computers, which had been used to program whatever the tower broadcasted, and found a phone, which, fortunately, functioned. The police arrived minutes later, dragging a very frustrated and vocal Caliborn, back to the road, where they tossed him into the back of the vehicle, informing Gamzee and Karkat that they would be needed for questioning, and offered them a ride back into town, which they accepted graciously.

That night, Gamzee exhaled a deep lungful of pot fumes, watching them twist and curl and dissolve into the air. Karkat laid beside him, running his naked legs against Gamzee's, tracing his fingertips over Gamzee's bare skin. Gamzee sighed with contentment and plaid idly with Karkat's hair, looking down to him.

"It's over, now," Gamzee assured him. "I can feel it, bro. All that shit be real motherfucking done. Now's time for just us."

"I hope so," Karkat replied, gently kissing Gamzee's shoulder. "I want it to be just us, just this way, forever."

"Me too," Gamzee replied, closing his eyes and smiling.

Gamzee Makara was a content boy. For the first time in his life, he felt as though this would be constant. This happiness, this feeling of ease and comfort, despite everything that transpired within the last year, just seemed far too strong, far too real to fade away. He squeezed Karkat softly beside him, feeling Tavros smiling at him, hearing his father laughing in pride, seeing Calliope dance in elation behind his eyelids. He bent his head, and softly kissed Karkat's hair, running a thumb over the skin of his shoulder, feeling as though he was going to melt into the bed. The bad was gone, and the sun shone down onto a new road ahead, something on which he would embark eternally, flipping and cartwheeling and laughing like a fool the entire way; because in the grand scheme of things, through the good and the bad, the gain and the loss, the winning and losing, you really can't keep down the clown.


End file.
